


Chance Encounter

by highest_water



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-11 05:16:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5615260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highest_water/pseuds/highest_water
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They meet by chance. He buys her a coffee as a show of appreciation when he sees her put an 'insufferable arse' in his place. They're strangers, although they're more connected than they think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

Perhaps boredom isn't quite right. Frustration perhaps would be more apt. Frustration that, once again, her relationship - or rather lack thereof - is the source of conversation. 

She loves David and Mary Margaret. She truly does. But as is the way when you are happily settled in a relationship and over the age of 25, you tend to hang out with other couples and you tend to acquire a burning desire to see any single friends happily paired up and settled down.

She had tried (against her better judgement) to be excited about the blind dates Mary Margaret had set her up on.  
You never know, Emma. Really it is no different to bumping into someone on the street. You just happen to be bumping into them at a restaurant. With good lighting and nice food. 

It had been the optimism shining in her eyes that had made it hard for Emma to refuse. So, she had agreed on two separate occasions and on two separate occasions she had found herself on dates with perfectly nice men. Perfectly nice men who she could not wait to say goodbye to (peck on the cheek, thanks for a nice evening) so that she might go home and watch Netflix in her pyjamas. 

Were it acceptable to say so, she would love to respond to the many, many questions about her love with the simple fact that she is happier alone than forcing herself to be happy with someone. And, truth be told, she is used to being alone now. She is comfortable with it. Perhaps too comfortable, says the voice in her head which sounds suspiciously like David.

And that is how she finds herself at the Nolan's house on New Year's Day. Surrounded by lovely, well meaning friends and friends of friends who are all too eager to play match maker.  
Glancing at her watch - 8.42pm - she is grateful that no one is close enough to hear her sigh as she decides that yes, another drink is definitely in order. Smiling as she squeezes past a small group of David's co-workers, she grabs the bottle of vodka from the side and empties a sizeable amount into her tumbler of coke. As she takes a healthy slug from her drink, she scans the room from behind the breakfast bar and decides that Ruby is probably the best option.

She had become firm friends with Mary Margaret and David's neighbour and at least knew that her line of questioning regarding her love life would be amusing. Also, that it would not take much on Emma's part to turn the topic of conversation onto Ruby's antics on the Boston dating scene.

Sure enough, within five minutes, Ruby was animatedly telling her a tale of a bizarre date with a handsome ER doctor which resulted in her having to take him to A&E. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of David hastily tugging on his leather jacket by the door. He grabbed his keys from off the side table and slipped out. 

Emma could tell that something was off. Even if they had run out of food or drinks (with the drinks laden breakfast bar and impressive spread on the dining room table begging to differ), David would struggle to find somewhere open nearby to restock on New Year's Day. 

With Ruby's phone buzzing at an opportune moment, Emma excused herself and went to speak to Mary Margaret. 

'Is everything okay? I just saw David leave in a hurry.' 

Mary Margaret gave her trade mark killer-watt smile but it didn't quite reach her eyes. 'He's okay, Emma,' she replied while readjusting the plates on the dining room table. Sliding the few remaining snacks from the near empty plates onto others and stacking the cleaned plates on top of one another. 'Hopefully he won't be long. His friend from work is having a hard time is all.' 

The tone of her voice might have been breezy but something about the way Mary Margaret had paused before saying 'hard time' made her think that 'hard time' was something of an understatement.

'Is there anything I can do to help?' she offered, watching Mary Margaret juggle the plate stack into her arms.

'That's kind, Emma but David really is the best person to help Killian right now. He's not exactly one to talk about his feelings but he and David are pretty close and it helps that David knew Liam.' 

Emma didn't really have the heart to tell Mary Margaret that she had, in fact, meant help with the plates as opposed to whatever form of counselling David was about to embark in. She did, however, see an opening to leave. One benefit of having moved to the city three months ago was that she could skip out of such events when she pleased. She could never think of a good enough reason to hide herself away in the Nolan's guest bedroom when she previously came to visit for the holidays.

'Hey, listen,' she said, following Mary Margaret into to kitchen, 'I might head out.' At the surprise on her friend's face, she elaborated her reasoning (also known as excuse), 'I know work will be pretty full on tomorrow after the break so I want to face it after a good night's sleep. I don't fancy starting a new year with a grumpy boss. Future Emma will thank me.'

Twenty minutes later, Emma was safely enveloped in the comfort of her favourite pair of pyjamas with a large glass of wine in hand. She wasn't physically tired, but emotionally she was drained. Deep down, she knew she was comfortable with her decision to be alone rather than waste her time on someone, but there were only so many pity glances a girl could stomach in one night before punching them upside the head. 

\----------------

David slowed his car into park before switching off his headlights and breathing a sigh of relief. Glancing up, he could see that his friend had kept his word and returned home to his apartment as the lights were on. He slammed the car door shut behind him as he strode onto the porch of the apartment block and pushed the buzzer for 32A. He knew he had probably pushed it for longer than strictly necessary but he was nervous for his friend. 

Anniversaries were hard, but anniversaries on a day where family becomes the poster child of a nation were something else entirely. It had been five years to the day. 

He jabbed the buzzer again and again as he paced on the front step. He was just about the press the buzzer of a neighbour when the intercom hissed and a familiar voice crackled through the speaker, 'Bloody hell mate, I was in the shower. Anyone would think there were a crisis.'

A bark like laugh left David before he could stop himself. Some of his fears being assuaged by the familiar lilt of his friend's sarcasm. 'Just let me up you sod,' he joked and was rewarded with the hum and click of the door lock.

In the elevator, he was aware that a young twenty something with headphones in was giving him a serious case of what Elsa told him was called 'side eye' for his pacing and somewhat frantic leg tapping. When the doors finally slid open he practically burst out the door to be treated by a laughing Killian Jones supporting himself on the frame of his apartment door. 'How do you manage to hide this frenetic paternal side on a day to day basis at work?'

'Ha,ha' he chimed as he's swiftly gave his friend the once over. He hadn't been lying when he said he was in the shower as his hair was still wet and his t-shirt clung to his skin. The usual Killian Jones smile firmly in place would have fooled most. It did not fool David Nolan. He saw the exhaustion in his eyes and the fine line of redness at their rim. The way his shoulders rolled forward slightly under the weight of his guilt. 

'I feel bad,' David gestured to his empty handed state of arrival, 'I forgot to bring a drink.'

This time, the smile did reach Killian's eyes as he turned back into the apartment. David followed in and dropped his coat on the hooks beside the door.  
'Water for me mate,' Killian replied as he somewhat sheepishly slugged the rest of his pint glass down. 

'Well then, as your boss, it'd be rude not to join you.' David stepped into the kitchen and moved past Killian to retrieve a pint glass. 

'Boss? Really?' Killian arched an eyebrow at him, 'Senior at best and that is surely only by age.' 

That comment earned him a hearty thwack upside the head as David joined him in a pint of water. 

The near empty bottle of rum remained open on the side and Killian sheepishly moved past David to put the cap back on. Half way through screwing the lid back on, he appeared to think better of it and then proceeded to tip the remaining drink down the sink before dropping the bottle into the trash. If David was surprised at all,he hid it well. 

'We might catch one of the classics on ESPN,' called David as he moved towards the couch in the living room. 

Killian flicked on the television before settling onto the other end of the couch and propping his feet up on the coffee table.'You only want me for unmitigated sports on the TV time.'

'Aye,' came the reply as David did what he liked to call his 'best Killian work' (roughly translating as a terrible English accent). 

He then similarly propped his feet up on the coffee table. It wasn't just the sports TV he came for. He dearly loved his wife, but sometimes a guy just needed to put his smelly socks on the coffee table if he wanted to.

It was late by the time David pulled the truck onto the driveway and he once again thanked his lucky stars for finding Mary Margaret. Killian's joviality may have convinced most but he knew almost immediately upon arrival that he would not be getting back to see out the end of their New Year's gathering. He had pulled his phone from out of his jeans pocket as he settled on Killian's couch and was about to thumb out a text to her when his phone lit up - 

Stay as long as you need. Give him my love and tell him he is coming for dinner next week whether he likes it or not. x

He once again marvelled at his wife before suggesting to Killian that they order in a pizza.

Two hours later he was greeted by the sight of his wife circled up on the sofa asleep as he finally stepped through his own front door and slung his coat on the stand. An old black and white film played on the television and illuminated her sleeping face. Brushing her hair off her forehead, he leaned forward to place a gentle kiss there. 

Moments later her eyelids fluttered open and a soft smile spread across her features, "Hey, you."

Sleepily she pushed herself up slightly on the sofa to press a peck against his lips. "How is he?" She asked sadly.

"Hurting," he sighed. He moved to sit next to her as she tossed the knitted throw she had curled up under back in invitation. Wrapping his arms around her he pulled her close. "I'm so lucky to have you.' 

He heard her mumbled response of "Me too," as she was pulled back under by the blanket of sleep.

\----------------

Killian Jones awoke with a start. He found himself sweat drenched and sitting upright in the middle of his bed. His duvet covers had been tossed aside onto the floor and his heart was pounding. Sleep never did come easy around the holidays. Over the past few years, rum had become his tonic when the nightmares struck but he had told himself earlier that enough was enough. The voice in head, he acknowledged, had sounded scarily like his brother's. 

He reached his arms over his head and puffed out a sigh. He really hadn't intended to lose it in quite the manner that he had earlier. He had ended up down by the docks as he often did when his thoughts strayed to Liam, to her, to that night. He had walked, or rather stumbled along, for how long he dreads to think and then, well then he had stumbled down part of the harbour wall. Sometime later (and he thinks he will never be able to recall just how long it was) he had come to - cold, bleeding somewhat from a gash to his shoulder. 

A dog walker had found him (Or more specifically, the dog itself. He had been awoken by a rather sloppy licking of his ear). And it had, of course, been a medical professional to have found him. One who insisted on treating his wound and making him ring his emergency contact or they would drag his 'British ass' to the ER room and formally do it himself. 

Thus he had found himself ringing David. Heard the relief that he had finally returned one of his friend's four missed calls during the day quickly replaced by his 'no nonsense' work voice as Killian begrudgingly explained the situation .

He dragged his hand across his face trying to physically wipe away the previous day.

He knew it had to stop.

Liam, he knew, would call him out on it. He could almost hear his brother's voice echoing a sentiment he heard from him many times before - A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets. 

And what Killian Jones wanted was to stop looking to the past and start moving forward.

\----------------

She was going to be late if this line didn't move soon. If she thought she could get through her 8am meeting without a small vat of caffeine then she would cut her losses now. Her boss, however, was an ass (especially so first thing) so she was determined to get her caffeine fix.

She makes a mental note to return to her usual coffee shop tomorrow. In front of her, a business man in a pin striped suit is tapping his foot up and down impatiently. She has half a mind to accidentally on purpose tread on it. Anybody can see that the harried baristas are doing their best. Suddenly the lines moves forward by two or three people as their orders are up. 

She hears the irritating business man in front of her order the world's most ridiculous excuse for a coffee and can't quite hide her snort. He turns her way and she feigns a cough. 

She's pretty sure she hears a chuckle behind her.

'Can I just check I have your order right?' asks the blonde behind the counter. She reels of his excuse for a coffee order perfectly but only gets a snipe of 'That's what I said' in response.

'Rude and unnecessary,' Emma finds herself muttering quietly. Maybe not so quietly given the affronted loo Mr Pinstripe throws her way. She just smiles sweetly before she steps forward to make her order.

That is until an arm reaches from behind her with a crisp note.

'I'll pay for the lady's too.' 

She can feel the frown on her face. What the?

As she turns, she hears the unnervingly polite barista greet him with a smile. 'Hey, sorry about the wait. Do you want the usual?' 

When she lays eyes on him, her indignation flares. He is handsome (annoyingly so). Dark hair swept haphazardly to one side, chiselled jaw line covered in stubble and startlingly blue eyes. He may be able to charm the young barista, but Emma Swan is not so easily swayed.

'I am capable of getting my own drink thanks.' 

She turns back round and opens her mouth to order -

'I am well aware of that fact, lass. It was merely an offer of thank you for putting that insufferable arse in his place.' 

His voice is close behind her and Emma desperately stares ahead. She can't quite fight the smile on her face though as the barista chips in, 'Yeah, thanks for that.'

Ashley, as her name badge informs Emma, looks expectedly at her. The line needs to keep moving and now Emma is all to aware she is holding it up. 

'I'll have a large Americano to go and,' she jerks her thumb behind her, 'his usual I guess.' She swears she can feel him smile from behind her. 

'No problem guys.' Ashley scribbles their orders on the side of two take out cups and hands the change over. 'They'll be right up.'

'Thanks, Ashley. See you tomorrow,' voices her coffee dealer for the morning and they move their way to the other counter to await their order. 

Luckily, the 'insufferable arse' has already departed. Emma suddenly feels a little awkward.

They both begin at once -

'So I -'

'I didn't mean to cause-'

He reaches up to scratch behind his ear and gestures for her to go first. 

'So I didn't mean to seem rude back there,' she states. 

'Think nothing of it,' he smiles, 'As I said, it was a token of appreciation for your citizenship.'

She rolls her eyes at him but it only makes his smile grow wider. There's something infectious about his smile that has Emma laughing too. 'Way to start the New Year on a positive note, huh?'

'I hope they burnt his bloody coffee.' 

Emma barks out a laugh but notices how his brow furrows. Notes how he is genuinely put out by the man's rudeness. His phone buzzes in his jacket pocket and as he fishes it out, she takes the chance to study him a little further. There's a tiredness clinging to him that his handsomeness initially masks. Deep circles lie beneath his eyes and on closer inspection, his stubble seems more unkempt than by design. 

'Two large Americanos' the barista calls as he slides them over towards them.

'Thanks, Sean.' The man beside her nods to him as he pockets his phone and collects their drinks.

Is he on first name terms with everyone in here?

He hands her her cup with a smile. 

'Thanks for this.' She nestles her hand around the cup to cradle its warmth. 

She's about to say that she needs to head off when he gestures as if to follow her out. 

The freezing winter air hits them as they step outside and Emma tugs her scarf a little tighter around her neck. 

'A large Americano too?' she raises her eyebrows at him as her breath swirls into the air before them.

'I hear all the best people drink it. No nonsensical drinks here.' 

'Well, thank you again. For the coffee.'

He smiles at her in a way that Emma can't comprehend. It has her reaching out her gloved hand to introduce herself, 'Emma. Emma Swan.'

He takes her hand, 'Well, Emma. It was a pleasure,' he pauses then but doesn't remove his gaze from her, 'I'll let you get on.' 

And with that he turns and make his way out into the street. 

She smiles down at the free coffee in her hand and lifts the cup to take a sip when she spots the name the coffee shop had scrawled on the side of the cup. 

Killian

Her head whips round to see him getting in to the driver's seat in his car. His patrol car. A police car.

'What are the chances,' she breathes out in to the cool air. 

\----------------

She can't deny that her mind drifts to Killian during the day. In between meetings and sometimes during them. She tells herself it is because of the strange coincidence of it all. Really, what are the chances of bumping in to a stranger who is not such a stranger in a city this size?

Sure, she technically doesn't know him but she has heard enough about 'Jones' from David to know that she likes the man who mercilessly ribs David on a daily basis but also has his back in the field. The stories David typically shares involving Killian don't quite match up with the frantic disappearance from his own party to go and check on him, but Emma knows better than most that appearances can be deceiving. 

She can't deny that the coffee was damn good too. Had to admit that she could see why there was a queue of impatient caffeine seekers.

If anyone questioned her, that was the reason she found herself foregoing her usual haunt in favour of pulling open the door to Once upon a Bean the following morning. 

The queue looked a little more manageable today and free from the rude suit she'd met the day before.

It was also free from Killian. 

(She absolutely did not feel a little deflated.)

Her phone buzzed in the pocket with an update from work and she was busy tapping away a response that she barely registered she had got to the front of the line until a warm voice was greeting her.

'Emma, hi!'

Emma looked up to see the see the same barista from yesterday greeting her. How the hell did she remember her name? Had she even given her name? 

She wished she wasn't the type of person who needed to check the name tag on the girl's shirt, but she hoped she did it surreptitiously enough. 'Hey, Ashley. Your coffee's pretty good it seems. I couldn't keep away.'

'Glad to hear it,' Ashley replied as she reached behind her to grab something. She produced a steaming large Americano with her name scrawled on the side and pushed it across the counter to Emma.

'I...what?' She hadn't even ordered yet. 

'Already paid for and ordered to be made for 8.15.'

Her brow furrowed, 'Killian?' 

'Yep. He dropped in early this morning, and I mean early, and sorted your order when he got his. Said that I was to assure you that it was just coffee and that he hoped it meant you were pepped enough to take down any more corporate arses who got in your way.

Whatever response Emma was about to give, gave way to a small smile on her lips as she nestled the warm take out cup in her hands. 

'Well, thank you,' she finally settled on.

'Don't thank me. It was Killian's doing.' 

Ashley was right, it was Killian's doing and well, never let it be said that Emma Swan is a freeloader. 'Do you think you could do the same for me tomorrow?' Emma asked as she pulled a five dollar bill from her wallet. 

'Put Killian's drink on hold?'

Emma nodded her assent.

Ashley started to scrawl a note on her pad, 'Any message?'

What should she say? A 'thank you' didn't quite seem to cut it. Sensing her uncertainty, Ashley slid the pen and pad over to her with a smile and turned to serve the next in line.

Finally settling on a line, she jotted it down before waving her thanks in goodbye. 

\-----------------

It was bloody freezing in the car even with the heaters on. Next to him, David hugged the thermos bought from home between his gloved hands as he kept his eyes trained on the warehouse ahead of them. 

Killian shook the his coffee cup lightly already knowing that there was nothing left but a cold swig of caffeine at the bottom. 

'You know, Mary Margaret would be all too happy to pack you off to work with a thermos too.'

He puffed out a laugh, 'You know I bloody love your wife, mate, but that's probably going to fuel the fire of her mother hen nature towards me a bit too much.'

David snickered next to him and cracked the heater up further. 

'Plus, the coffee at Once really is good.' 

And then there was Emma.

The beautiful blonde he had not been able to get off his mind for the last 24 hours. He'd put her a coffee on hold on a whim this morning then second guessed it the whole way to the precinct. He could tell she was fiercely independent and didn't want to overstep but he had left a message with Ashley to assure her it was nothing more than coffee. (Although, in his head it was definitely more than coffee.)

'Spit it out,' David smiled next to him.

'Spit what out?'

'You mentioned your coffee shop and then smiled to yourself and scratched your ear.'

Killian opened his mouth to protest but was cut off.

'It's your tell when you're nervous or embarrassed so spill.'

Sensing it was hopeless to put up a fight he mumbled an indignant, 'Fine, I met a woman there yesterday.'

'You met a woman? A woman who has made Killian Jones feel nervous? I like her already.' David's voice had definitely risen a few octaves with excitement.

'You've been spending too much time with your wife, mate,' he chuckled.

'When are you seeing her again then?'

'Well, I'm not.' He pulled absentmindedly at the label on his cup. 'I don't know anything more than her name and that she takes her coffee the same as me.'

'Well,' David clapped him on the shoulder, 'it's a start.'

He tried not to give rise to the flicker of hope kindling inside him but maybe it could be the start of something after all.

\----------------

He rarely complained about the early shift. He had always been an early riser since the days of trying to emulate Liam and his earnest self discipline when working at the docks to support the two of them.

This week, however, he cursed his 7am start with all the colourful language he could muster and it had everything to do with Emma. He kept telling himself it was daft to feel so much base on so little but something about her had struck him to his core and it was more than just her beauty. He felt as if he knew her, or could really know her at the very least. There was something akin to understanding in her eyes that he couldn't quite explain.

He yanked open the front door to the coffee shop with more force than was strictly necessary and pulled his beanie off as he stepped inside. One thing to be said for the early shift was that there was seldom any queue. 

''Morning, Ashley,' he greeted as he made his way to the counter. He was about to ask how Emma reacted to her coffee when Ashley slid a steaming Americano in front of him.

'Already paid for,' Ashley grinned in response to his raised eyebrow.

'Emma?' He knew he hadn't kept the hopefulness from his voice. Knew also that he didn't keep the daft smile from his face when Ashley nodded.

Spinning the cup round, he saw a note scrawled on the side - May your coffee be strong and your day be short. 

He laughed a little at the cheesiness of it as Ashley said, 'So what'll it be?' She already had a pen and notepad in hand. She knew enough of Killian to know he would be once again be putting a drink aside for Emma.

\-----------------

The bark of laughter that erupted from her mouth was about as far from ladylike as one could wander and yet Emma really couldn't have given a crap. 

When there's a series of drawings showing Killian awakening and getting ready for work in the morning entitled 'From Neanderthal to Caffeinated Rapscallion' twisting around your coffee cup, Emma is fairly certain she can be excused. (If not, she gives a pretty good death stare.)

Her fingers caress the ink on the side of her cup and she can't help but dwell on the fact that this man who she barely knows manages to make her laugh in a way that few can. 

She picks up the sharpie Ashley not so subtlety left on the side by her order and formulates a plan. She may not be as artistically minded as Killian but she'll give it a damn good shot. 

\-----------------

He may or may not keep the 'Saviour Swan' superhero (special powers to curb the sense of entitlement of upper class 'arses') emblazoned cup on his desk next to the photo of he and Liam. 

\-----------------

Thursday finally rolls around and Killian is dead on his feet. Work has been exhausting. Rewarding, yes, but finally brining down the ringleader of an illegal shipping ring takes its toll. 

David looks about as knackered as Killian feels when he steps out of his office and into the main room of their division. Perks of being in charge - you get your own door. Also means that there are less people to see (and mercilessly tease you for) a certain coffee cup upon your desk. 

So what if he had kept it?

He can remember few weeks where he has been more tired nor more glad that tomorrow is Friday and that he then has the weekend off. 

'My wife says check your phone,' David huffs at him. It's a longstanding joke that he gets the hump about Killian and Mary-Margaret's friendship. (Truth be told, he's glad they both have another person looking out for them.)

He promptly retrieves his phone from where it lies face down on his desk to see he has six new emails and, indeed, an awaiting message from Mary-Margaret.

Tapping in his key code, he swipes open the message and chuckles at the content -

 _Good evening, sire. I am inviting you to dine at our humble abode tomorrow at 8pm._

He cannot remember why they text in antiquated English to one another but they do so he thumbs his reply ( **I will arrive on my steed at 8pm sharp, Lady Nolan** ) before tossing his phone into his bag as he gathers his things to leave.

'Looks like you have the pleasure of my company for dinner tomorrow night,' he informs David as they walk out together. 

'I think we've more than earned a home-cooked meal and few beers this...' David pulls up short seemingly alarmed by his reference to alcohol in light of last week's incident.

'Mate, it's fine. I won't break. Nor will I be able to drink myself into a stupor on that light beer your lady stocks.'

David feigns hurt but concedes that he has a point. Killian turns down the offer of a lift in David's truck and instead decides to walk home. 

Anything to prolong the fact that he will then sit at home stewing over the fact that he hasn't heard from her. It was the reason his phone had been living face down on his desk as a last ditch effort to prevent him from checking it approximately every seventeen seconds. He'd put his number on the side of the coffee cup this morning. He'd firmly put the ball in Emma's court and...nothing.

When he finally gets home to his apartment, he toes of his boots and plonks himself on the couch. He chooses some sort of nature documentary on Netflix but watches little of it. His mind too tired and distracted by the week's events. 

He sighs and heads to the kitchen to grab a drink. In the soft light of the fridge he smiles at his choices - milk or juice. He did not need a repeat performance of last week. Pouring himself a glass of orange juice he moves back to the couch when he sees his phone light up. 

Two messages from an unknown number.

He knows he grips his phone far to tightly as he swipes to read the messages. 

_Hi, Killian. It's Emma._

_Emma Swan, from the coffee shop._

He grins. As if he needed the reminder?

**Emma, it's good to hear from you.**

**How was your day, lass?**

And it's ridiculous really, how giddy he feels at the three little dots that appear on his screen but he can't find it in himself to care all that much.

\----------------

As days go, it had been a shit storm of never ending problems and she had never been more grateful to curl up on the comfort of her couch at the end of a day. Yes, today had been a killer but there was a small part of her (the cowardly part) that was secretly grateful. 

He'd left his number on the side of her coffee cup this morning and she, well, she'd panicked. Which really made no sense since that was what she wanted. It was just now that she had it, she felt afraid. Afraid because this felt like it come really be _something._

Something more than she was used to and while the possibility of him had kept her feeling pretty happy for most of the week, it also made her a little nervous. Was she ready for this? Had she invested too much in a person she barely knew? The thought had spurred her into action. She _did_ barely know him; in fact they had only physically met once and here she was thinking about him now for the better part of a week.

She retrieved the empty take out cup from her bag given that events of the day had not even provided time to save his number to her phone book. 

What to say? She hastily typed a message and hit send before she could take it back.

_Hi, Killian. It's Emma._

She then wondered if he needed more of a reminder. He might know more than one Emma after all.

_Emma Swan, from the coffee shop._

And she would 100% deny keeping her phone clutched in her hand while she awaited a response if anyone enquired.

She can't help but smile when she receives two messages in quick succession. 

**Emma, it's good to hear from you.**

**How was your day, lass?**

She rolls her eyes at the endearment but replies straight away. 

_Honestly? Pretty exhausting. It was a bit of a whirlwind._

**Sorry to hear that. I'm sure you had things covered though. What do you do if you don't mind me asking?**

Who was this polite over text message? It intrigued her.

_I'm a lawyer._

**Of course you are! :)**

She would normally be affronted but the emoji made it seem different somehow?

 _And what's that supposed to mean?_  
She then used his own words against him, adding - _If you don't mind me asking?_

Awaiting the response, she curled her other hand around her hot chocolate and pulled the blanket off the back of the couch around her. Being in the comfort of her own home (and talking to him) was easily the highlight of her day thus far.

**Ha. Only that you can quite clearly handle yourself as you so aptly proved with that insufferable arse the day I met you.**

She snorted at the memory. 

_Damn straight I can! How was your day?_

The reply took longer to come this time although the three little dots sat there the whole time. Clearly, she wasn't the only one who had had a tough day.

**Successful but tiring. Glad to be back home.**

She had known David long enough to know that far more was being conveyed in those few words and she made a mental note to check in with David later too. If Killian's day had been a challenge then it was highly likely that David's would have been too. 

_I know that feeling. I hope you got they guy!  
Or lady!_

**Aye, we did indeed.**

**Wait, did I tell you I was in the police force?**

She really could kick herself. She actually does bang the palm of her hand off her forehead. She'd been caught up thinking about what must have happened that she had typed her response before she really thought about it. It wasn't that she didn't want Killian to know that she was a part of David's life, it just hadn't really come up when your only communication is scrawled notes and illustrations on coffee cups.

_I saw you get into your patrol car the day we met._

Which is the truth, she affirms to herself. It just seems a bit much to spill that his boss thinks of her as little sister all in one text message.

**Seems we may have another detective in our midst then, Swan.**

She breathes a little sigh of relief that he clearly doesn't think her a stalker.

_Ha! I'll leave that to you if that's okay. My office has a stellar heating system._

It carries on in this manner, an easy back and forth until the question that she'd been hoping for comes.

**Swan, can I see you again? A date where we can communicate face to face rather than on coffee cups?**

She doesn't hesitate in her response.

_How does Saturday night sound?_

\---------------

She texts him first the next day. She wasn't expecting that she would want to. It wasn't her normal style but this feels different. She _likes_ talking to him. He makes her laugh and so when she settles at her desk to start the day she sends him a picture of the coffee he had put aside for her sitting atop of the mountain of paper work on her desk. She adds a quick caption - Thanks for this morning's fuel power. 

He messages back later in the morning as she expects. David's texts in the daytime are sporadic. It's hardly the same as an office job where your phone is to hand and, in Emma's case, necessary. She has sometimes contemplated accidentally losing the damn thing. 

**Should I have got an iced frappe monstrosity with your superior heating system?**

She smiles. Again. This man makes her smile and she knows not to take that for granted. She hasn't always chosen wisely when it comes to members of the opposite sex.

Messages are exchanged intermittently throughout the day and it feels oddly normal. As if this is something they do every day. 

Maybe they could? 

Thankfully, work had been quieter. Full of paperwork and long, yes, but free from screaming clients and a frantic boss. Staying a couple of extra hours also meant that she wouldn't need to do any work over the weekend. 

Walking home her thoughts drift to her date with Killian the following evening. They're going to a restaurant she has heard good things about from the Nolans but hasn't actually visited. She'll tell Killian about David when she sees him tomorrow she decides. 

Thinking about the Nolans reminds her that Mary-Margaret still has her favourite pair of heels. She'd borrowed them a couple of weekends ago for a baptism (or was it a wedding?).

Their apartment is only five minutes from hers. In fact, every apartment they had 'found' for Emma when she moved here was pretty much within a radius of about four blocks from their own. It was so them. She was incredibly grateful for it though. 

Knowing that if any body part of hers comes into contact with her couch she will not move again for the rest of the evening, she decides to call in on her way home.

When she gently knocks on their door - David having once teased that he thought her fist would come through the wood one day - a beaming Mary-Margaret greets her within seconds. Spatula in hand. 

'Emma! This is a nice surprise,' she opens the door fully and stands back to let Emma enter. 

Her own apartment feels like home to her now, but there is something so 'homey' about the Nolan's apartment that any who cross the threshold may never want to leave. 

'I was hoping I could get my heels back that your borrowed the other weekend?'

Emma asks as she hangs her coat up on the hooks by the door and follows Mary-Margaret into the kitchen as the other woman mumbles something about her quinoa catching.

Attention now firmly on the various pans in front of her, Mary-Margaret chatters away. 'Oh of course! I forgot to give them to you when you were here last week. They really were comfortable at the Bar Mitzvah.'

Emma cringes slightly for not paying enough attention. She'd known she was borrowing them for a celebration. Surely that was good enough, right?

'Where are you going this weekend then?' Mary-Margaret asks.

Emma doesn't respond quick enough.

Eyes now alight with excitement, Mary-Margaret is flicking off all the hobs and turning to Emma with a giddy smile. 'You have a date!'

'I...yes.'

'You actually like this guy too!

She's known Mary-Margaret for too long to be surprised by the fact that she gathered so much information from Emma's insufficient supply. She can feel her cheeks getting warmer under her friend's appraising gaze but sensing her unease, Mary-Margaret turns back to sorting the meal she is making.

'You'll stay for dinner? I made plenty.' 

It's phrased as a question but it's anything but. Mary-Margaret Nolan is a feeder,a home-maker and Emma's stomach is eternally grateful.

'Thank you,' she smiles and reaches to get down the plates. She spreads the three plates on the counter and moves to get glasses down. They've done this dance many times before.

Busy plating up, Mary-Margaret informs her that she needs to get another plate down.

Four?

Hell no.

'Woah, no, no, no. I have leftover pizza in the fridge at home with my name on.' She's fully prepared to leave. She has been subjected to too many dating set ups by the Nolans.

'Now just you wait here,' shaking her spatula at her, Mary-Margaret probably looks less intimidating than she thinks but none the less, it halts Emma in her tracks, 'this is not me setting you up. I didn't even know you were coming!'

Emma has to concede that she does have a point there. (The food smells so damn good too.)

'Fine I'll stay, but I've got my eye on you, Nolan.'

The brunette just laughs. 'I think even I learned my lesson after that Walsh fellow.' She shakes her head as if chasing away the memory. 

'It's just an old friend of David's. He'll probably detest me describing him as lovely but he is. Plus,' she adds, 'according to that husband of mine he appears completely smitten with a woman he met recently.' 

She wiggles her eyebrows mischievously at Emma. 'And you have your hot date tomorrow night too.'

Emma rolls her eyes. 'You're lucky you're feeding me right now.' She smiles as she says it though, her mind drifting to her date tomorrow. 

'Come on, let's go and eat' Mary Margaret already has two plates in hand and Emma grabs two herself. 

'David will be delighted to see you. They won't have heard anything over the game.' 

Indeed as they lay the plates down on the table and Mary-Margaret disappears into their lounge to tell them dinner is ready, the apartment suddenly quiets as the game is turned off. 

She turns when she hears David's warm greeting and is swiftly pulled into a hug. She's never been much of a hugger but over the years David has worn her down. The man gives good hugs. 

As he releases her, he steps back and gestures to make introduction.

Her mouth falls open.

'Killian, this is my sister -'

'Emma?'


	2. Part 2

She turns when she hears David's warm greeting and is swiftly pulled into a hug. She's never been much of a hugger but over the years David has worn her down. The man gives good hugs.

As he releases her, he steps back and gestures to make introduction.

Her mouth falls open.

'Killian, this is my sister -'

'Emma?'

As surprised as she feels, the shock on his face is even more pronounced.

His eyebrows are raised high on his forehead but there is something else lingering there. His features seem to darken before her eyes as he clenches his jaw. Stands a little straighter. Schools his features. She recognises the signs well. She exhibits them herself often enough.

He's putting up walls and she doesn't quite know how to remedy it quick enough. He's been lied to before, she gathers.

'Wait?' David turns between the two of them looking perplexed.'You two know each other?'

Emma doesn't really know where to begin. Doesn't know how to make him see that she never had any intention of keeping it, keeping this, from him. Only that she wanted to explain in person. She feels her cheeks burn under their gazes. (She hopes dearly that he knows it is because of embarrassment and not at being caught out.)

She wills herself to meet his questioning gaze, offers a smile feeling a little shy all of a sudden.

'Hey, Killian.'

'Hey'

She notes the traces of a cautious smile on his face now alongside his confusion. That's good.

'You're Dave's _sister_? I...I thought you said your surname was Swan?'

Right, they're getting straight into it then. If he's giving her chance to explain, she'll damn well take it.

There's a pause of silence in which Mary-Margaret surveys the scene; her head twisting back and forth from Emma to Killian as if watching a tennis match. She promptly claps her hands together and announces that she needs help checking the desserts are setting before forcibly grabbing her husband by the shoulder and tugging him back towards the kitchen leaving Emma and Killian alone.

Emma realises that the all-too-knowing Mary-Margaret has read the situation perfectly - perks of being a school teacher. That lady never needs help in the kitchen.

'She never needs help in her kitchen,' Killian muses looking after where the Nolan's have just exited.

Emma laughs. Real and true. 'I couldn't agree more. I think she's onto us.'

There's about five feet between them and they're just _standing_ there but they're smiling now. Both of them. She doesn't know if it's the fact that she has simply _stayed,_ or that she seems to be as embarrassed by the whole thing as he is, that has won him round but there's curiosity in the way he looks at her now. Much better than the look of resignation he had worn before.

She watches as he reaches up to scratch behind his ear. He then shoves both hands in the back pockets of his jeans. Emma wonders if he is a little nervous too. 'Well, this is a surprise, lass.'

'A good one I hope?' She can't quite keep the wishfulness from her voice.

He nods then smiles and she releases a breath she didn't know she was holding. His smile is earnest and unaffected. She grins too. It's also infectious, it appears.

'I should explain...' she begins and takes a seat.

He follows suit and listens attentively as the words tumble out of her mouth. From not knowing what to say, she now can't stop it seems. She explains how she is David's sibling in the ways that matter but not in name, how she was planning on explaining the connection tomorrow night. How she hadn't known when he had bought her coffee.   
They both smile at the shared memory.

'We can think of this as a warm up then,' he smiles as both Nolans return.

'And how are the desserts, Lady Nolan?' Killian teases.

Mary Margaret replies with an admirable poker face. 'Excellent thank you, now let's dig in.'

To their credit, the Nolan duo almost make it though the whole dinner without slipping up. And dinner is lovely. Good food, good company (although Emma kind of wishes Mary-Margaret didn't insist on that light beer nonsense) and frankly, a good view. Killian looks incredibly handsome in his button down turned up to the elbow.

She thinks their stolen glances and smiles are subtle.

Turns out they're not.

They're just finishing up dessert when David exercises his right to be an obnoxious older brother. 'Feel free to make doe eyes at one another over the washing up you pair.'

Emma promptly kicks David under the table but Killian just chuckles and starts to stack their plates. 'Sounds like a fine plan to me, mate.' Now he understands, he doesn't seem at all put off by this shared, Nolan-shaped connection in their lives.

She's never had more fun washing up before either. He makes her laugh and she seems to make him laugh too. It's exciting and easy and she _wants_ it.

She leans over him while he is elbow deep in washing up suds to tip his now warm beer down the additional sink. She hears his slight intake of breath as she brushes against his chest.

She'd noticed over dinner that whilst he accepted a beer, he barely touched it. Instead drinking from his tumbler of water. Which in itself isn't a big deal, it's just that she spotted how this fact had been noted by David and Mary-Margaret too.

He must pick up on the way her thoughts have sidetracked. He looks a little uncertain and keeps his gaze firmly on the scourer in his hand as he speaks. 'As much as I would like to say it's that excuse for beer that Mary-Margaret buys, I'm actually steering clear of all that stuff for a while.'

There's much more to be said there, Emma knows. She also knows what it's like when people pry and push and she wants to do no such thing. She's pretty sure it has to do with David's swift exit on New Year's Day.

'A New Year's resolution then?' She quips, trying to lighten the change in atmosphere.

He furrows his brow, 'Something like that.' His gaze then turns on her and the seriousness of the moment vanishes. His blue eyes are teasing as he asks her if she has made any New Year's resolutions before promptly listing ridiculous choices she could have made.

'I'm not really into all of that stuff,' she shrugs.

(Although, looking at him with mirth in his eyes and soap suds up to his elbows, she thinks maybe she might be making a resolution right here to take a chance of this man.)

They stay for an hour or so after that before she finally collects her shoes and they bundle back into their coats to leave. Guests leave at the same time, right? And yet it feels like a thing in the way that Mary-Margaret thanks them for coming by saying, 'It was so nice to have the _two_ of you over,' and in the way that David tells her to message him when she gets home safe.

Which he normally does.

He just doesn't normally stare daggers at Killian while he says it.

Killian, for his part, looks completely unfazed. He pulls David in to a man hug complete with pats on the back and despite his efforts, David can't really keep his intimidation act up. She takes this as a good sign. A sign that her instincts are serving her well.

\----------------

He keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. For this evening to take a turn for the worse or for her to think better of it and leave him for dust. Lord knows she should. This evening has only confirmed how much of a bloody marvel she is. She's smart and beautiful and has a razor sharp sense of humour which keeps him on his toes.

He doesn't quite know what he has done to deserve her coming into his life but he intends to prove himself worthy.

It had been a shock to find her there in the Nolan's dining room, not to mention the fact that she is Dave's baby sister. He thinks he won't refer to her as that. She's a grown woman and it always pissed him off when Liam would call him little brother.

(Heaven knows, how much he would give to hear Liam call it him again. Annoyance be damned.)

And he had bristled when he had initially found out. He can't deny it. Believed for a heartbeat that his heart had been deceived. Again. Had steeled himself for the blow that she wasn't who he thought she was.

Turns out she's exactly who he thought she was. He's never been so glad of Mary-Margaret's helpful meddling. The words of explanation had fallen from Emma's mouth in a steady stream. She was nervous, he noted. Nervous, that he wouldn't give her a chance.

(Didn't she know it was he who needed someone to take a chance on him?)

And later, he'd seen the way her brows had crinkled when she poured his beer down the sink and so he'd just gone for the truth. He _had_ decided to swear of the stuff for a while. Last week had been too close of a call. In time, he hoped he would get the chance to explain a little more. Explain that it had been the five year anniversary of his brother's death. A death that he still largely blames himself for despite all the arguments against it.

He had asked her to move in and she told him she was married. Married with no intention of leaving her husband. Married the whole time. She left and his world had come crashing down. What he thought was true was sordid and pitiful. He'd rung his brother. His best mate. Liam was in the car within minutes to come and see him.

He was hit by another car which blew a red light at the intersection down the end of the street from Killian's. Just five hundred yards away. If he thought his world had crashed down before, he was wrong.

He shakes his head and chases the memories away. He's in the company of Emma Swan, escorting her home in fact and she deserves his full attention.

'How long do you give Dave before I get a warning text?'

She laughs and it's fast becoming his favourite sound. 'I'll bet you a grilled cheese that it's within the hour.'

'Grilled cheese, huh?'

She nods her assent and he files away that snippet for future reference.

A couple of minutes later, she comes to a stop. Her heeled shoes for their date tomorrow night swinging lightly from her fingertips.

'So this is me...'

He raises his gaze to glance behind her and sees a neon diner sign. 'I don't think 'Granny's' is a very apt name for you, lass?'

She swats his arm and gestures to the door beside the diner. 'I live in the apartments above.'

'Of course.' Tonight has been a wonderful surprise and he shouldn't be so greedy but he doesn't want it to end.

She seems to be hesitating too as she idly plays with her keychain. He wants to kiss her. Has wanted to all night. He wants to get this, them, right though. It feels too precious to rush.

Gone is her usual self confidence when she speaks again. 'Do you, um, do you want to come in?'

Bloody hell. He swallows hard. Screw going slow. Who is he to turn her down? And yet he worries that if he goes through with this he might be filed away into a box stamped 'case closed'.

'Killian?'

And now she looks fearful that she is being neglected. Hurry up and speak you daft idiot, he thinks.

He reaches forward to take her cold hand in his, 'Emma, love, this has been the best night I have had in a long time so yes, of course I want to come inside with you.' He's pleased to see the pretty flush that creeps across her skin. 'I just don't want to rush this.'

He runs his free hand through his hair, hoping against hope that he isn't screwing up what feels like the best thing to happen to him in quite some time.

'I don't wish to alarm you, but I think this thing between us could be something good. Really good.'

She chews nervously on her lower lip and its endearing and damn hot at the same time.

And he realises that she hasn't let go of his hand as a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. 'I _meant_ for you to come in for a hot chocolate.'

Oh. Shit. Now it's his turn to blush.

She throws her head back when she laughs at him and it's childlike and carefree and bloody hell, he feels better around her.

'Lead the way then, Swan.'

She excuses herself to change in to something comfier when they get into the warmth of her apartment and he takes the time to survey her lounge area. It somehow manages to be haphazard in its tidiness as if things have just fallen together. There's a few photos dotted around the place but none are from her childhood. In the earliest one she seems to be of around sixteen or seventeen.

She is pulling a face as David's arms squeeze around her from the side. They're in front of a Christmas tree. He's smiling at the photo of the two of them when she returns clad in leggings and a sweatshirt thin from regular use.

She's beautiful.

'He hasn't changed a bit,' she says with affection.

'Still an eternal optimist you mean?'

'Still annoying as hell,' she snipes but there is no real bite to her words.

He helps her to make the hot chocolate and accepts her offer of whipped cream and cinnamon on top. She deems it a necessity and the look she fixes him with is how he imagines her clients feel in the board room.

(He also reminds her to message David. He doesn't want to be on the receiving end of a Nolan shake down.)

They settle down on the sofa and she hands him the remote when she's accessed Netflix.

'I'm honoured,' he says, mostly to earn an eye roll from her. It works.

He selects an episode of Planet Earth and sets the remote down on the coffee table next to her sock clad feet.

'Nature documentaries?'

'Not just any nature documentaries, lass. Attenborough documentaries.' He's always found there to be something oddly comforting in them after a rough day at work. Likely something to do with the dulcet tones of Mr. Attenborough himself but there's also something to be said for the absence of people in them. Particularly after a trying day.

They settle onto her couch to watch. He smirks when she tells him twenty minutes in that he made a good choice. He's enjoyed all of their conversations in the past week - coffee cups, texts and in person - but there's also something to be said for _this_. Just enjoying one another's company. Sitting with her in her home watching a documentary, it feels right.

She hits play on the next episode and shifts a little closer.

About twenty minutes in her head comes to rest on his shoulder (his heart soars). 'Comfy there, Swan?'

'You make an excellent pillow.'

He's not complaining.

\----------------

She makes it about a third of the way through the second episode without physically touching him. He'd been adorable and earnest when he told her he didn't want to rush things earlier and she agrees. She actually was just going to invite him up for a hot chocolate but the man is insanely handsome and smart and she _likes_ him. Likes him in a way that should panic her but oddly it doesn't.

And so she finally caves and shuffles a few inches across on the sofa to rest her head on his shoulder. He's warm and she would like to shuffle even closer if that wouldn't end in her mounting him.

She feels the press of his cheek against her head as he smiles and asks her if she's comfy. She is perfectly comfy and content right here.

So much so that the next thing she is aware of is a twinge in her neck and that the room is dark.

She fell asleep.

_They_ fell asleep.

Killian is warm beside her. Their feet tangled together on the coffee table in front of them. His hair is in a state of disarray that reminds her of a child and she's endeared by how unaffected and calm he is in sleep.

Carefully, she reaches forward to pick her phone up from the coffee table. The bright screen light seeming less obnoxious due to the glow of the television idly playing to an audience of none.

She clearly isn't careful enough though as her movements wake him. She hears his sleepy voice from behind her. His accent thicker with slumber.

'What time is it, love?'

'Five past three.'

'I'm sorry I fell asleep.' He's rubbing his neck and she knows he must have come off worst in this since she had used him as a pillow.

He drops his feet from the coffee table and sits up. He smiles at her, all rumpled hair and crinkled shirt. 'I'll leave you to your bed,' he says quietly and as he moves to stand she suddenly doesn't want him to leave.

It's an ungodly hour of the morning and probably freezing outside (and she just wants him to stay).

She reaches out to grab his arm and still his movements. She's fairly certain that this is one of the moments David speaks of so keenly. 'You could stay,' she offers quietly. She knows instantly that she has made the right choice by the soft, surprised smile that spreads across his features.

He reaches up to scratch behind his ear. Something she is beginning to think is a nervous gesture.

'I'd like that.'

'Me too,' she smiles.

Somehow, going to the bedroom seems too much. Too much effort at this time in the morning but also too much to trigger Emma's internal panic alarms. She's taking a chance (and it damn well seems to be paying off) but that seems a step too far tonight.

She's also not convinced that she made the bed this morning.

He's waiting patiently to follow her lead so she pushes the button on the remote to turn the television off and pulls the blanket down off the back of the couch. It's dark in her apartment now except for the faint glow from the street seeping through her curtains but she can feel his eyes on her.

She's hoping he gets this, understands what she's asking without her having to say it. She'll only say the wrong thing if she has to explain. She's shaking the woollen blanket out so that it will cover the two of them when he seems to wordlessly follow her plan and settles back onto the sofa. This time propped up slightly by the arm with his legs stretched out before him. Emma quickly joins him, draping the blanket over them as she does.

He tugs the throw a little higher so it covers more of her and she's touched by the gesture. She's also fairly certain that despite the cool temperature the blanket is unnecessary. With her back pressed against him and their legs entwined she suddenly feels warm _everywhere_.

His right arm is draped loosely, tentatively, around her middle and she has to bite back a sigh as she leans in to his embrace. He tightens his grip a little. She's so used to being comfortable alone, it's alarming how comfortable she is with him.

'Night, Swan,' he breathes against he hair.

'Night, Killian.'

She's asleep within minutes.

\----------------

It's morning, he realises from the bright light filtering in through the curtains. He also realises that he is alone. For a moment, panic rises within him and temporarily erases the dull ache in his neck and shoulders from a night sleeping on the couch. He panics because maybe she regrets asking him to stay last night, maybe she regrets letting him into her home at all? He swing his legs to sit up and scrubs a hand over his face.

His faculties slowly begin to return to him as he takes a second to truly think about it. This is Emma's apartment, she's hardly likely to have cut and run. Nor does she seem to be the kind of person who does anything she doesn't want to. And _she_ had asked _him_ to stay.

He slips his phone from his pocket to check the time. He has to double check. 9.37am. After weeks of restless nights tormented by memories of the past, he can't quite believe he has slept so well. On a couch. In his clothes and with another body lying on top of him.

Okay, maybe that other body is part of the reason he slept so damn well.

There's still no sign of Emma so he stands and shakes out the blanket before refolding it and returning it to its place on the back of the couch. He looks down at his clothes and there'll be no mistaking that they are yesterday's clothes when he makes his way home. His shirt is an absolute state. A myriad of creases tracking their way across the body and sleeve. His jeans fare a little better he thinks.

'Morning.'

He starts a little because he didn't hear her coming. Looks up to see her dressed in dark jeans and a camisole. Her hair wrapped up in a towel on top of her head. She smells of whatever shower cream she uses and she's just... _stunning_ with her hesitant smile and fresh face.

'Morning.'

She's smiling. It's small but the relief that floods through him is anything but. She's glad he's still here.

'Did you sleep okay?'

'Aye,' he smiles,'better than I have in a while actually.'

She blushes prettily but averts her eyes. He's embarrassed her, he thinks. He wonders how a woman such as she is so unused to compliments. He dearly hopes he has the chance to find out. There's a connection here between them, he knows, but he wants more. Wants to get to know this woman better than anyone else. Wants to be her friend. Of course, there are other things he wants to be to her, but he _likes_ her as a person. Truly.

'So...?' She's worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. He gets the uncertainty. He's more than a little out of practise too.

It might be selfish, since he has spent the last 14 hours in her company and he gets the pleasure of seeing her again later but he doesn't want to skulk out of the door now. Feels it would somehow render last night something it is not.

His mind recalls the diner downstairs. 'So how do you feel about grilled cheese before noon?'

'I feel pretty great about a grilled cheese at all hours of the day.'

'Good.'

'Good.'

She offers him a shower and says that she's pretty sure there's a sweatshirt of David's around that he can borrow.

He asks if she has an iron.

It's highly unlikely the Nolan's will be eating at the same diner but he's not taking his chances. Although David's face would be a picture if he did see him, he'd like to keep his own face free from a black eye.

She laughs and says she'll set it up for him.

Her shower cream is vanilla. He decides he's rather partial to it too.

He can hear her blow drying her hair in what must be her bedroom when he emerges from the steam of the bathroom. He finds that she's set up the ironing board for him in the lounge and he sets to work erasing the crinkles from his shirt. (He'd hung his jeans up in the bathroom trusting the steam to do their magic. Thought it might be a step too far to be ironing in his underpants. They haven't even kissed.)

He's buttoning up his shirt as she steps back into the lounge. Her hair is loose and tumbles down over her shoulders in soft waves. He's never really had a thing for blondes until now. Now it's all he sees.

She's holding a silken blouse in her hands. 'Fancy doing this?' She says holding it up.

He knows she's joking but he opens his hand, palm facing up ready to catch it. She tosses the green garment to him over the sofa.

'Don't tell me you enjoy ironing?' She teases.

He turns the dial on the iron down to a lower heat. 'I wouldn't say _enjoy_ but when there's a beautiful woman asking you to iron it's quite a different matter.'

There's that blush again.

  
She gathers together her things and drops them into her purse while he irons. The blouse was in a similar state to his own and he's fairly certain it may have been hung on the floor rather than a rail.

Finally deciding it to be fit for wear, he turns to hold it up for her inspection only to find her closer than he had imagined. There's an expression on her face he can't quite read and he never gets the chance to figure it out before she closes the distance between them and kisses him.

\---------------

In the shower, she'd whipped herself up into a frenzy about the fact that he was still here. She wasn't used to the idea of morning chat. But this was hardly a typical morning after. She wanted to see him again, was seeing him later that night in fact. She was also highly aware that the circumstances were different. This wasn't some sort of random hook up - he hadn't even kissed her and yet it meant more than anything before.

The butterflies in her stomach were thankfully short lived. She watched as he carefully folded the blanket they'd slept under into a neat square before draping it over the back of the couch. Smiled at the way he startled when she spoke. She was slowly coming round to the idea that his smile had some sort of hidden powers. Each time she saw it, she just somehow felt a little _better_. A little easier.

They hadn't kissed and somehow that made the concept of saying goodbye (even temporarily) confusing. Then he'd gone and asked her about her thoughts on grilled cheese before noon and her heart had practically left out of her chest. He felt it too. He didn't want last night to be over either.

(His smile may be good but the way his ears tinge pink she offers him a sweater of David's is even better.)

And she's joking when she asks him to iron her blouse but then he holds his hand out and raises his brow at her as if challenging her to follow through and so she does.

She notes how his own shirt looks as good a new. He'll probably do a better job of it than her anyhow. She's busy swapping things out from her work purse to the one she uses at the weekend when she pulls up short.

She takes in his profile and he's so goddamn handsome. All wayward hair and stubble and _those_ _eyes_. Notes the way his brows are furrowed in concentration as he irons out the creases in her shirt. The care with which he attends to his task tugs at her heart.

And it makes no sense that something so utterly domestic and mundane as them getting ready together in the morning is the thing to do her in completely, but it is.

He's here, he stayed, and he's charming and kind and he looks at her all pleased with himself when he holds her blouse up for inspection.

She kisses him and it's perfect.

She smiles at the muffled sound of surprise he makes before he regains his composure and she swiftly realises that _she_ is now the one being kissed. The man knows how to kiss.

Eventually they pull away, breathless and smiling. He caresses the dimple in her chin and she feels happier than she has in quite some time. She touches her forehead to his whispering thanks for ironing her shirt.

He barks out a laugh, 'Remind me to iron for you more often,lass.'

She's pleased that he looks as stunned as she feels by their kiss.

He takes her hand on their way downstairs to the diner and she finds that she doesn't mind it at all. Likes the way their fingers look when they're entwined.

He rubs his thumb over the tattoo on the inside of her wrist - sees the question in his eye. She tells the story behind it as they ride the elevator. How David's Mom picked her a simple bouquet of flowers from her garden and left them on the kitchen table for her to say well done for acing a test. She was 16 years old and it was the first time she had ever received flowers.

She shrugs. Uncertain how to express how it was the first time she had ever really felt maternal kindness directed towards her. How she suddenly felt she wasn't alone in this world. How that lone buttercup is so much more than the whim of a teenager. He seems to get it in the way he raises their joined hands up so he can press a kiss to her hand.

He opens the door for her (of course he does). She rolls her eyes at him which seems to entertain him to no end.

It's fairly busy in the diner but they find a booth towards the back and sit across from on another. They've barely sat down when the waitress appears. Emma is fairly convinced the speed of service is a direct correlation to Killian's handsomeness.

Something akin to jealousy creeps across her back as the beautiful brunette grins wolfishly at Killian while she sets their menus on the table.

'What can I get you to drink?'

He's completely oblivious to her efforts as he looks up and smiles smugly at Emma. 'Two americanos please.' Honestly, he looks pleased as punch that he knows her drinks order. 'Finally, we get to drink our coffee _together_ , Swan.'

She shakes her head at his giddiness. He's incredibly sweet and yet the way his tongue darts out his mouth as he says it is far from being suitable for all audiences.

Try as she might, she can't persuade him to join her in having a grilled cheese. His eyes light up when he sees the option to have an 'English Breakfast' and that's that. 'I like this place already, Swan. We can come here more often.'

The 'we' trips of his tongue so naturally. It should scare her. It doesn't.

As their food arrives her phone rings. The screen lighting up to announce Mary-Margaret's call. She flashes the screen to an amused Killian before answering.

'Hey'

As expected, Mary-Margaret bursts forth with enthusiasm and a barrage of questions. 'Last night was so lovely Emma. Did you enjoy it? Killian really is great. You must tell me how you met! I know there's a story there.'

In her excitement, Mary-Margaret's voice carries and Killian chuckles lightly at the conversation.

'Maybe some other time,' Emma replies. She knows Mary-Margaret will wheedle it all out of her eventually but she doesn't want to have the conversation in front of Killian. Knows the satisfaction that would appear on his face when she undoubtedly blushes.

'Oh, of course,' Mary-Margaret continues unfazed. 'So, where are you going tonight?'

  
'That restaurant that you and David tried a few weeks ago and said was good.' She knows the vague response will cause her friend to put on what she refers to as her 'teacher voice'. It does.

'Emma, we try a lot of restaurants, that's hardly helpful.'

She knows she shouldn't but she can't resist and so she tells Mary-Margaret to hang on for a second and then asks Killian the name of the restaurant. Asks him in a voice loud enough for Mary-Margaret to hear.

The high pitched squeal that comes through the phone is worth it. 'Emma! Oh my! Killian is there!'

'He's here.'

_He_ is in fact laughing while shaking his head at Emma with something akin to wonder in his eyes. She feels it all the way down to her toes.

'He stayed? Does that mean? Were you already?' Mary-Margaret pesters. Her voice now a comic whisper.

'Why are you whispering?'

'David is in the shower. Lord knows, he doesn't need to hear this. It'll give him a hernia.'

'Look, Mary-Margaret, we're having breakfast and mine is going cold so I'll call you later. Thanks again for dinner last night. Bye.'

She hangs up before her friend can pester her some more and takes a sip of her coffee looking as innocent as she can.

'That was wicked, love,' he states. Eyebrow arched in appreciation.

'It's too easy to push her buttons sometimes,' she smiles.

'She'll be on cloud nine all day now,' Killian muses, 'and she won't be able to keep it from Dave long.'

True to form, the Lady Nolan can't contain her excitement. They've barely finished eating when Killian's phone buzzes with an incoming message from David. He smiles then holds it up for Emma to see -

She likes buttercups

Emma practically wrestles the phone from his hands to prevent him from replying to say that he has already made his acquaintance with the tattoo.

He pays for their food - _A thanks for welcoming me into your home, love_ \- and they wander outside. It's a cold morning but she feels warm with her hand tucked in his.

'I'll see you later then, love,' he says as they stand outside her door.

'Yeah, you will.' He hasn't even left yet and she is already looking forward to it.

She's not sure who moves first but their lips meet in a kiss. It's softer than their first kiss. A promise of things to come.

'Until later.' He leans in with that grin of his to press another kiss to her lips. Then another before he finally leaves.

\----------------

It's the best first date she's ever had (and the last she will ever need).

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Characters belong to the creators of Once Upon a Time

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Characters belong to the creators of Once Upon a Time


End file.
